What To Do With A Drunken Soldier
by bucktooth22
Summary: John gets drunk JOHNLOCK SLASH TWOSHOT
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock

When John came back to the flat after a long night out, it was clear he was drunk. And not the normal drunk that Sherlock knew how to deal with. John was good at holding his liquor so Sherlock surmised that night must have cost a small fortune. He slumped down on the couch, ignoring Sherlock who was standing by the window, violin poised for playing. Sherlock was used to the drunken declarations of love that he was showered with by John. He was, however, not used to tears. Upon further inspection, he realized the drunk was crying.

"John." He murmured, putting down his instrument. "Tell me what happened." His voice was a soft rumble as he sat cross-legged in front of the couch. John sniffled and looked at the man on the floor before him.

"I told Greg I was bi so he took me to a gay bar." John said in a shaky voice.

"Were they mean to you?" Sherlock guessed. Somehow, with John drunk he became Sherlock the sweet, understanding friend, leaving behind Sherlock the _freak _consulting detective. John would become the tell-all, giggling maniac that never remembered in the morning.

"People bought me drinks." John sobbed desperately. Sherlock worried Mrs. Hudson might come see what was wrong, worried about the reason John was wailing so…loudly.

"And…that's bad?" Sherlock asked a bit incredulously.

"Yes!" John shouted. Sherlock knew, if Mrs. Hudson were coming to check on them, that probably warded her away with plenty of inappropriate ideas filling her head. The brunette wondered how John stayed so articulate when he was as drunk as he was.

"I don't understand." Why is that a bad thing?" Sherlock asked.

"I didn't want them to buy me drinks." John shouted. Sherlock cringed at 'them.' Did he mean gay guys?

"Did Lestrade not pay?" Sherlock asked. Did John mean he didn't want gay guys to buy him drinks? Guys like Sherlock?

"That's not what I meant Sherlock!" John wailed. Sherlock stayed silent as his drunken friend resumed sobbing. "Greg made me drink them all!" John mumbled.

"Who did you want to buy you drinks?" Sherlock asked, not wanting to know the answer.

"You!" John shouted as he pushed himself from the couch and onto Sherlock. The sober of the two, hadn't expected the answer, and had definitely not expected John to quite literally throw himself at Sherlock.

"Even though I'm gay?" Sherlock asked, looking up at John who was laying on top of him.

"Yeah. Of course. Why would I have a problem with that?" John asked incredulously before his face contorted and he seemed to be thinking hard. As last he seemed to have figured out the subject of his pondering. "When I said I didn't want them to buy me drinks I meant I wanted you to buy me drinks. No one else." John explained. Sherlock smiled. "Too many clothes." John mumbled as he began struggling with their clothes. Sherlock stilled his hands.

"Not like this." Sherlock said, causing John to pout. "I want you sober so you know what you're doing." Sherlock said, knowing John would have forgotten all this when he had woken in the morning. John smiled and nodded, putting his head down on Sherlock's chest. Sherlock sighed and put his arms around John's waist. "Please remember" Sherlock whispered before they fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock

When John woke in the morning he was sore. And not the good kind of sore that left one in the mood for more kinky shenanigans but the kind of sore that meant he had slept on the floor. He opened his eyes for a moment, seeing Sherlock's sleeping form next to him and shut his eyes again. His head was pounding, throbbing painfully and he felt like he should use the loo. He didn't have to use the loo just to pee, but he really had to pee, but also to vomit. Maybe he'd do that after he peed if his stomach would permit because he really had to pee. He slowly sat up and his stomach decided that vomit would be first. He rushed to the bathroom and made it just in time to puke into the toilet. He moaned loudly, figuring his desperate scramble to the restroom had already woken Sherlock. "John?" Called Sherlock's sleepy voice. John moaned again louder. When Sherlock's sleep ruffled form appeared at the door John felt his head pound louder. Had the consulting detective always breathed that loud?

"I would kiss you good morning but you might want to brush your teeth first." Sherlock mumbled rubbing his eyes sleepily. John would have blushed at the insinuation if his face weren't so cold and sweaty. Perhaps brushing his teeth and a shower before that kiss.

"Could you get me some ice?" John mumbled miserably.

"Anything for you dear." Sherlock mumbled as patted the top of John's head before leaving for the kitchen. He returned with a hand towel full of ice that he passed to John. John in turned pressed the ice to his head, enjoying the soothing cool they offered his melting brain.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" John asked. It sounded more like an accusation than he'd meant it to be.

"What? I can't be nice to my ailing flat mate?" Sherlock's retort sounded sassier than John knew he'd meant it to be.

"Did I say-um...do something last night? I was pissed." John mumbled. He knew he was completely hammered last night, beyond drunk, and he knew he must have done something by the way Sherlock was acting.

"You might have." Sherlock shrugged dismissively. "I'm starved. Will you be up to making breakfast or shall I call Mrs. Hudson?"

"I'll be out in a minute. I just want a shower and I'll brush my teeth." John mumbled as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

"So not as opposed to that kiss then, are you?" Sherlock teased. John didn't know how else to describe what Sherlock had just said. It was a flirtatious teas not a malicious one. And John thought he must still be drunk because Sherlock would never flirt with him. He would never flirtatiously tease him. Before John could say anything, Sherlock slipped from the room. Not that he would have said anything. What would he have said? He shut his eyes and put the ice down before debating whether he should brush his teeth or shower first. He ended up decided he would brush his teeth in the shower, compromising, and stepped under the steamy blast of soothing water. When he finally stepped out of the shower he froze. Sherlock was standing in the doorway, eyes roaming freely over John's exposed body. John snatched up a towel and hid his unmentionables as fast as he could.

"What are you doing?" Hissed John.

"I got hungry and came to check on you. How long are you going to be?" Sherlock asked casually. As if he hadn't just been staring at John's naked body.

"I'll dress and be out in a few." John squeaked.

"Okay." Sherlock said. The consulting detective had finally decided to extend his sweet, understanding friend for this one time offer. He couldn't let John come home crying again. He just couldn't handle tears. He was bad with emotions in general, but when it came to John, his John, he always became a bit more frazzled. John noted that Sherlock wasn't moving and his eyes were still wandering freely over his dripping body.

"Are you going to...leave so I can get dressed?" John asked.

"I wasn't going to." Sherlock responded. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, looking at John's towel and then his eyes.

"What's gotten into you?" John mumbled.

"Well I hoped you would. But you're clearly taking your time." Sherlock snapped.

"W-what?" John faltered.

"Is this not how one flirts? Because my research shows that this was how best to express my intentions." Sherlock resorted to his usual self. Although it was his usual around John self as opposed to his usual around everyone who's not John self. They were two different personalities. With this new flirtatious, sweet, and understanding self, he had three personalities. He thought that might mean something was medically wrong with him but the only thing he could think of was multiple personality disorder which was extremely rare and his symptoms did not actually match those of the disorder.

"Why are you flirting with me?" John asked.

"Because I am expressing how I feel about you." Sherlock crossed his arms and sported a sulk.

"You feel...about me?" John asked.

"Attraction. Yes." Sherlock's sulk intensified.

"N-not...not love?" John fumbled with his words, feeling suddenly like his mouth was drunk. Maybe his brain had had a bit too much too. But at least his head had stopped pounding.

"Yes. Love." Sherlock said. The word sounded foreign in Sherlock's voice, it did not roll of his tongue like snappy retorts did. John still seemed a bit...disbelieving. "I love you John." Sherlock put all doubt out of John's mind.

"As in brotherly-"

"As in romantically. As in I want to snog you so hard your towel falls off." Sherlock's sulk vanished and he uncrossed his arms.

"Um...I...should...ah...make breakfast." John stumbled over his words.

"Yes." Sherlock seemed to be going from one personality to another again. He'd started the conversation wanting John. Then he went to being with John and lastly, the personality he had finally resorted to, was his common nature, his guarded and masked personality that he used around others. The one he used around 'normal' people, people who knew he was a freak.

"I...ah...love you too...like that." John said as he brushed past Sherlock, clutching the towel firmly about him as he hurried to his room to change.


End file.
